


Redemption

by Sensue



Series: Suitcase of Memories [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherhood AU, Drunk Driving, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26001547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sensue/pseuds/Sensue
Summary: Dr. Mackland Ames' runs into someone he never thought he'd see again…making him remember things that he wished he could forget. Pre-"Filmstrips and Striptease" in the series.
Series: Suitcase of Memories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887088
Kudos: 2





	Redemption

"Mac, tell me again. Why do I have to go? I can just wait in the car—it's cool. I can watch TV in here!" The boy started pressing the buttons on the console next to him, revealing the small embedded TV in the limo. Caleb reluctantly climbed out of the limo after the driver held the door for him. He waited for his father to get out before pulling at his tie, again. "Please?"

"Caleb! As I've already explained, you have to come with me because this is a _family_ dinner with the other members of the hospital board. They are _also_ bringing their families, and since the Ames Foundation has just funded the new oncology wing, they have graciously invited us. And we will," Dr. Ames stressed, "be _honored_ to be their guests."

Caleb shot his father a look of disgust. "Cullen didn't have to come!" He yanked the tie around his fist. Mac stopped him from completely destroying the silk cloth and pulled his hand away before retying it for him in the correct manner.

Mac took in a deep breath in exacerbation, "Caleb, you know that your grandfather is in Europe. Otherwise, he wouldn't have missed it."

The boy gave the older man a cocky grin, "Yeah, he's in Europe, all right—Paris, wasn't it? With the next Mrs. Ames…"

The exasperated father forced himself to stop gritting his teeth at the thought of it. "My father is not going to marry that woman!"

"You sure about that? She told you that if you needed anything, to think of her as a mother…" Caleb started cracking up with laughter.

Mac just pushed him into the banquet hall, muttering, "Over my dead body. She's practically a teenager…Gold digging, seductresses…"

Caleb continued to laugh, "Is that why I'm really here, Dad? To protect you from _the gold-digging seductresses_?"

It was the way that his son said it that made Mackland Ames shell crack. The doctor started laughing in agreement. "You are absolutely right. That is exactly why I brought you."

Caleb arched his eyebrow at him, Spock-like. "So, I'm your 'baggage', huh? A single father with a wild teenager? You should swear and drink too. Oh, and talk about all the girls who randomly come over to have sex with you."

"Caleb!" Mac looked shocked. He looked around the room to make sure no one had heard the boy before walking over to the buffet table. He picked up a couple of plates and handed one to his son. They both snacked as they spoke.

"What? I read it in Playboy. _Traits women find undesirable_." Caleb explained to the sheltered older man. He ignored his father's widening eyes, as he further explained. "See, I **do** read the articles. Although, it does mention, some women like that 'bad boy' type of personality, so it could backfire on you."

Dr. Ames was about to start one of his famous lectures, but a familiar face was approaching him. "We'll talk about this later, Caleb. Including how in the world you are able to buy those…trash ridden magazines."

"I subscribe," Caleb smirked back, timing it perfectly so that he would have the last word.

"Dr. Mackland Ames." The man held out his hand to the doctor and enthusiastically pumped his hand up and down. He put the plates down on a tray a waiter had walked by with.

"Dr. Witherspoon, wasn't it? You're the Chief of the Psychology Department?" Dr. Ames took his hand back from the man, smiling uncomfortably as the doctor continued to stare at him. He quickly introduced his son.

"Yes, I am." The man stated matter-of-factly. "In fact, I'm also the head of clinical psychiatric research."

"Really?" Mac tried to act interested but truly wanted to get away from the pushy man. Especially since he'd all but completely ignored his son. "Congratulations. I'll be sure to look you up in the Journal when I get a free moment."

Caleb just rolled his eyes and acted completely bored. Mackland politely nodded and walked away to sit at a table that had been reserved for him and his son. Caleb was pulling at his tie again as if it was strangling him; this time it was Mac's turn to roll his eyes as his son shoved the black tie in his pocket and pulled out the shirt.

"Hey, the world isn't going to end because I didn't wear a tie." Caleb defensively argued. Mackland turned to counter the statement and wasn't watching where he was going. He collided with a waiter. Quickly he grasped the man by the arm and straightened him. "I'm sorry-" He froze.

"You… what are you doing here?" Mac whispered. He felt his hands drop to his side and start to become clammy. He clenched them into fists until the moment passed.

The waiter looked uncomfortable, and there was apart of the doctor that reveled in it. He wanted him uncomfortable; he wanted him to feel pain—to know what he'd done. Another tray was placed in front of their party and Mac grit his teeth as he watched the man pick up a glass of wine and drown it in a gulp. In his hurry, a drop of red wine stained his white shirt and he hurriedly wiped at it. Caleb was at his back, standing rigid in a protective stance, obviously picking up his emotional state.

"When I –uh—when I was in prison, I'd call the hospital every day and see if…well, if you died. Most of the time, they wouldn't tell me anything, but sometimes, I'd get someone on a good day—and they'd tell me that you were still in a coma." The man sounded broken. "I—uh—I'd sit in that cell and wonder what I'd say to you if I saw you again. 'I'm sorry' seemed too trivial." The man put his hand out to the doctor. "For what's it worth, I prayed that you'd wake up. I'm grateful that I got my wish."

Caleb stared at the man, realization filling his mind. "Dad?" He whispered, "Is that the guy?"

'The guy' heard him. "Yeah, kid. I'm the guy who put your dad in a coma. I'm the guy who ruined his life… if it weren't for me—he'd probably have won the Nobel Prize or something. I've never forgiven myself for the mistakes that I made-"

"Listen, I have no time for this. My son and I are leaving. Stay away from us." The Scholar demanded.

"You're right. I am sorry… It wasn't my intention to go into all of this now. I just wanted to let you know that—I'm getting help. I still drink—and sometimes, it's all I want to do. But, I'm working on it. If there's anything that I can do—to make up for the things I've done… call me." The man handed him a card with the name Henry Mitchell bolded, and then watched as it flew to the ground unseen.

Caleb watched in concern when his adoptive father shakily got back into the limo and started rubbing at his temples. He took in a deep breath, looked at him and gave him a smile that ended up being a grimace. He didn't speak the entire trip home; Caleb noticed the tension in his shoulders, his face-all of a sudden it was as if the man had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Even their driver noticed, "Are you alright, Dr. Ames?"

It seemed to jar him from his reverie, "Yes, thank you, Anderson. I'm fine."

The car slowed to a stop in front of their apartment and they both went up to the penthouse. Caleb stayed close to his father-he put a hand against his back guiding him inside when it seemed that the older man wasn't entirely 'there'. He was somewhere inside of his mind, reliving a memory that he wanted to forget.

They both walked over to the kitchen table, Mac seemed a little lost, as if he didn't know where he was. "Dad, sit. I'll make you some of that tea you like." Caleb softly ordered. Caleb watched as Mac sat, cradling his head in his hands at the table.

The teen didn't know what to do: Mac was the one who took care of him, who knew what to say to make things better. He'd never seen his guardian like this before. It scared him.

The whistling of the tea kettle interrupted his impending panic. He poured the water and threw the tea bag inside, letting the aroma fill the room. Placing the cup in front of his father, Caleb took the seat beside him and waited.

He tried to think of something intelligent to say, but couldn't. He instead let his instincts take over as he leaned into the man and wrapped his arms around his chest, resting his head against his now trembling shoulder. Mac uncovered his face and used one of his hands to stroke Caleb's hair as if to tell him that he was alright-comforting _him_ , in essence. They both sat there for a little while until Mac had gathered his wits about him.

Mac gave his son a quick kiss on the head before pulling out of his embrace. "I'm tired, son." His voice was emotionless and quiet as he spoke to him, unlike his usual warmth. "I'm going to bed now." Standing, he gave Caleb one last look, "Good night, Caleb."

The man looked at least five years older as he walked into his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Caleb sat back at the table and decided to drink the untouched cup of tea himself. It didn't take a psychic to know what was on his father's mind... he'd thought that Mac would want to talk about it. Hell, Mac ALWAYS wanted to talk about stuff. He lived off that therapeutic psycho-babble. Anytime he felt...upset, all he'd have to do was sit down in Mac's office. His father would sit beside him; sometimes, he'd talk to him and tell him about his day. Other times, he didn't. He'd bring a book in with him on those days-he'd lounge on the couch, staring at the same page for what seemed like hours until it was time for bed.

Cullen was a phone call away, this he knew for a fact. His grandfather would immediately cut his trip short and fly back home as soon as he hung up the phone. He'd dump his gold-digging girlfriend in a heartbeat if she tried to talk him out of it too-but Caleb didn't want to ruin his trip.

Memories of Mac's hospitalization after his adoption clearly ran through Caleb's mind. It was the day he'd realized that the man who'd taken him in was more than just his guardian-someone to temporarily house him until he turned eighteen. At that point, Caleb had planned on hitting the road. He'd certainly never considered the fact that the man would mean so much to him, not until he'd almost died. It was the day he'd been taught that family-a father-wasn't necessarily blood; they could be tighter than blood and share a bond so strong that no one could break. Cullen had made him promise to love his father - to not hold back for fear of losing him. His grandfather shared his shame, told him that he'd been a horrible parent to his only son in his grief over the loss of his wife.

He'd been surprised to hear that Cullen would've taken him in if the worst had happened. The fear of un-acceptance had vanished; he was an Ames in all but name.

Walking over to the couch, he decided to rest there. It had been a long day and he was tired too. Leaning back, Caleb closed his eyes, praying to God for guidance.

He was near sleep, merely dozing when he'd heard the cries coming from the bedroom. Jumping up, he practically ran toward Mac's room. He entered the room, searching for a threat but finding nothing other than his father in the room. Mac was sitting up in his bed, sweat blotting his face and practically gasping for breath. He swung his legs around and got up to go to his private bathroom. Caleb followed behind him, worried. He watched as Mac threw handfuls of water onto his face, rubbing the sweat away from his skin.

Caleb figured that he'd been patient long enough; he leaned against the sink turning towards the shaken older man. "Must've been some nightmare..."

His eyes were bloodshot, tired, and puffy. Mac looked utterly exhausted. "It was." He stared at himself in the mirror as if he didn't recognize the face reflecting back. He forcefully turned his gaze away to look at his son. He wasn't sure what Caleb's expression would be, but he wasn't expecting to see the determination in his eyes.

"Dad, we've got to talk. You can't keep this bottled up; it'll drive you nuts."

For a few minutes, Mackland didn't answer him. He just rubbed his jaw tiredly and nodded. "You're right... Let me just get my robe, give me a few minutes, alright?"

Reluctantly, Caleb left the room. He feared that if he let Mac out of his sight that he'd change his mind about talking to him. It was ridiculous; half the time, he couldn't get Mac to shut up about things. He talked about everything- and now, when it was really important, the roles were reversed. It was Mac that kept a tight lip.

He sat on the couch, lighting one of the candles that were arranged on the coffee table by their maid. The woman had purchased them for Mac's birthday, telling them that aromatherapy was calming for the soul. He lit the purple one that he remembered she said was used for relaxation. After a few minutes, he sniffed the air-nope, he was still anxiously waiting. "What a waste of money..." Caleb muttered to himself.

Mackland slowly strolled into the room like a man on death row. Wearily, he lowered himself to the cushions next to the fifteen-year-old. They both stared at the flame, not speaking for a while.

"I'm sorry, son. I didn't mean to keep you up. Why don't you go to bed now?" Mac suggested softly.

Caleb hit his arm with his fist, hard enough to make a statement, but not hard enough to hurt. "I'm not going to bed, Mac..." He took in a deep breath before continuing, "Dad, I think you need to talk about this. I mean, you're having nightmares... that guy-Mitchell- he ruined your life."

Mac swallowed hard, "No, he didn't, son. The day I woke up from that coma, I started a new life; one that I'm very grateful for. If it hadn't been for that accident, Caleb, I don't think that either of us would be here right now."

Letting his arm rest on the back of the couch, he let his hand come into contact with Caleb's shoulder. The boy shifted closer to his touch and there was a part of him that filled with hope and love. "You're right. I am having nightmares- ones in which I wasn't hit by a drunk driver, that I wasn't in a coma; ones in which I'm still a hotshot neurosurgeon. The path that I'd been on was selfish, egotistical, materialistic, and uncaring. I dreamed that I'd had it all: money, power, women..."

Caleb smirked at him, "Yeah, I could see how that'd give you nightmares, Mac!"

Returning the smile, Mac continued, "I also dreamt that I'd never gotten my abilities. I'd pictured the lives of the families I had helped save, in despair." Gently, he ran a hand through Caleb's hair, his eyes tearing at where his thoughts had taken him. "The thought that finally woke me was that I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I had imagined your grave; imagined myself crying as they lowered you into the dirt, unable to save you. I woke up crying, thinking that it'd happened."

Listening to his adoptive father, Caleb found himself mentally picturing his life without the older man. Unfortunately, his life stopped at the hospital where he'd met him. If Mac wasn't around, without a doubt his life would've ended that day: either at the hand of Daniel Elkins or his own. At that point, there was nothing to live for; everyone around him died. And the worst part was-Caleb knew that no one would've cared. He would've died-and maybe the only person that would've shown up at his funeral was Bird, his grandmother's old friend.

Mac patted him lightly on the forehead as if he'd pictured what he was thinking. "Are you alright?"

Caleb nodded, "Yeah... I just-I never knew that you felt that way, you know? I mean, would've never wanted anything like that to happen to me; I don't think that I would've thought about all of the other consequences. You had a perfect life before the accident. Most people-they'd give anything to be rich, smart, and never mind the women, Dad..." Thoughtfully, Caleb continued, "It must've been really hard on you..."

"Well, at first, it was. The pain was indescribable and, yes, my life had abruptly changed-without my consent. I'd been a man who thrived on being in control of everything; I considered my medical abilities near God-like in terms of power. I'd lost everything in one fall swoop because of a drunk driver. My physical health, my job, my friends, and my old life." His son inched his way closer until he was tucked under his arm, their heads practically touching as he listened. "I was angry. I wanted to kill that man; I hated him-hated how he'd taken everything that I worked for. Your grandfather told me that the police had arrested him and that he'd been put in prison; it was his third strike, from what I'd heard. It was your grandfather that helped me get through it. I'd been depressed; there were times that I'd wished I had died, but he held me together and supported me after everyone else had left. Do you know that not one single person that I'd considered a friend visited me in the hospital? Sure, a couple of them sent flowers or cards, but no one took the time to see how I was doing. It was a long and hard process, son. It took me months to learn how to walk again; nearly a year to speak properly..."

"When did you discover that the accident left you with abilities?" Caleb asked.

Mac rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Honestly, I'm not sure... at first, I didn't understand what they were. I thought I was going crazy. The doctors thought I'd had some kind of brain damage and it was causing hallucinations. It was only after I'd started moving objects with my mind that I realized that the accident must've triggered a psychic ability and even then, I had a hard time believing it was true."

"But once you did?"

"Once I did, I realized that I couldn't go on with my old life. I had decided that I would learn how to harness my abilities and try to help as many people as I could with them. I wanted to find others like me-and help them too. I'd started working with the FBI, helping them find missing children. I meet Missouri Mosley and then Pastor Jim soon after. Jim encouraged me to join the Brotherhood and so I did."

"All of those things led you to me..." Caleb trailed off.

His father looked at him curiously, "Yes, I suppose that it did. Why?"

"Pastor Jim would say that it was God's plan." It was said matter-of-factly.

"Yes. He would. What would you say?" Mac asked the boy.

"I'd say that we're both pretty lucky to have found each other... especially since we'd both be dead." Caleb laughed.

Mackland nodded, "You're right."

"You know what I'm going to do tonight, Mac?"

He shook his head, "No, what?"

Pulling away, Caleb leaned over the couch to grab hold of the telephone. He pressed three buttons in rapid succession. "Yes, I'm calling in an anonymous tip. There' a man working at the Marriott on Grove Ave who's on parole from drunk driving and vehicular assault-he's drunk. The name is Henry Mitchell. You might want to pick him up. Thank you. Have a nice day, officer." With that said, he hung up the phone.

"I just didn't want anything to happen to anyone else. They might not end up with super-powers as you did," Caleb laughed.

Mackland laughed with him. "No, probably not."

The older man stood up and helped his son to his feet. Gently, he pushed the teen to his bedroom. "This time, it's time for both of us to go to bed, son. Good night. I love you, Caleb."

The young man hesitated, then rolled his eyes. "I love you too. Geez, you're so sappy, Dad. You know we're guys-we don't have to say it. But, since we're having this heart-to-heart, I'll let you get away with it this time." He hugged the older man, "Good night."

Mac watched the boy go to his room before heading to his own. He crawled into his bed and thought to himself... I wouldn't trade anything in the world for him.


End file.
